The Reason I Cry
by anti-hopeful369
Summary: Wouldn't you do the same in my position? If you had the chance to save the world, even if it meant sacrificing a life that wasn't yours?
1. Hello hospital bed

Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina

Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina

"…" – speech

'…' – thought

'…' – **sub thought (internal conflict/ mental debates)**

_italics - _sounds

**The Reason I Cry**

_Beep .Beep .Beep .Beep. Beep_

Keitaro gradually opened his eyes only to be greeted by a dark room. The familiar monotone beeping of the cardio-respiratory monitors that had kept him company, reminded him that he was still alive. How unfortunate.

He looked at the ceiling that he had come to know over the past two months. He looked down at his limbs, or at least what used to be. Now all that remained were butchered stubs of rotting flesh, namely galf his left thigh and nearly none of his right, with a little section of shin hanging by dead tendon.

His arms were in no better shape. All that was left were parts of his right forearm and the scorched remains of his left shoulder. There used to be a gaping hole in his side but that was patched up with something that had the same consistency to blast gel. No doubt by the men in white. Why they were keeping him alive was a mystery to him, it could be any number of reasons.

The most feasible reason was because he was still alive when they found him. A month ago they had started a series of tests; drawing blood samples, taking X-rays, scraping brain matter off of his skull. Oh, did I mention that the afore-mentioned cavity was currently ripped open and exposed to the open air? Funny how they opted to seal his chest rather than his head. I suppose as long as he wouldn't die it was convenient, sealing his chest would prevent, err, spillage. They had even gone so far as to take his seed.

He had long ago given up hope that he would be let go. In any case he would rather they just put him down. But this long two months had given him time to think. He thought about his life, his choices, his hopes, and his dreams. He had made many conclusions that had brought him as close as he was ever going to be to enlightenment.

He had felt everything other than contentment. He felt lonely, never sad, and refused to abolish any feelings of regret he had for anything in his life. Fortunately, he was too weak to end his life as it is imperative to the lot that he stay alive. Keitaro's thoughts were interrupted by the door to his room/cell was opened. There was a mammoth of a man, muscle bound and no doubt as stupid as he looked, in the doorway. He ducked through the narrow (for him) opening to let three men in hospital attire in with a gurney, all of which walked in at the same time. That should give you an idea of how big that man was.

The large man lifted Keitaro, one handed, and placed him onto the cold metal surface of the cart. The ice cold metal stung his back and send spikes of pain into his nerves. Keitaro bore no facial expression through the ordeal. One of the men unnecessarily forced apart his jaw rather roughly and shoved a handful of liquid capsules into his mouth. It was probably the only thing he used his taste buds for. It was the usual assortment of pain killers and vitamins, not to mention some depressants to slow his body's natural reflexes.

The cart made several sharp turns, wheeling through several hallways of grey concrete walls and baby blue lamps, walkways suspended in mid-air, hanging above large collection of capsules containing God knows what. They passed through steel blast doors several feet thick to be greeted by a flash of blinding light, pure white walls, and light emanating from the walls themselves. From there, the technicians handed him off to men in white scrubs and another guard, dressed completely white, smaller, but no doubt just as stupid, but the very large gun he was holding compensated for his lack of height…and brains. They pushed him into an operating room surrounded by one-way mirrors and a large machine in the center.

Though Keitaro had seen this room many times before, but it seemed different now. He noticed that they were prepped what looked like a long and complicated procedure. Advanced surgical tools and several remote surgeons were stationed around the room preparing scalpels, what looked like random pieces of machinery, and a collection of 24 oz. containers of light blue liquid that seemed to glow of their own accord in the brightly illuminated room.

They strapped Keitaro onto a larger metal slab in the center of the room. Several metal bracers locked him into place with a clear metallic snap. With a "_shing",_ strong steel needles shot into his skin, cutting through skin, bone, and nerves and locking them into place. Any sudden movement threatened to shred what was left of his body.

Keitaro could not comprehend their speech in his state, but he understood that they had agreed to start the operation. They began by removing the cast and bandages around the stubs that were his arms and legs, and began to rip the dead and decaying flesh from them to bring out the nerves buried into his skin.

Then they began the attach the machinery to the stringy masses of muscle and assorted segments of flesh, using nano tech to graft it to the organic, albeit dead, cells and using biometrics to melt the flesh and bone into the organic living metal. They placed similar but different pieces of machinery into shrapnel induced holes which began a similar grafting process of their own.

They removed the blast jelly – like object from Keitaro's stomach which gave way to the pus-like substance that filled Keitaro's stomach and several insects as it seemed, and began to start a similar procedure. Several nurses and doctors prepared an I.V. drip composed of the bright blue liquid and positioned it above the gaping hole in his chest. They severed more sections of his stomach and let the fluid begin to drip into Keitaro.

The liquid if, if I recall correctly, was a pint of nano-tech. The small machines fused their own artificial bodies to red and white blood cells, copying their structure and function into their memory. Several more containers of the little pieces of technology were used to graft his organs into place and expand his natural muscles.

When all of it was said and done, the operation took approximately 5 days, and on several occasions, Keitaro fell out of his stupor and felt the extreme pain they were actually causing him, unnoticed due to his unresponsiveness until the nurses remembered to replace the intravenous drip which, might I add, they did quite sparingly. The machines formed rounded orbs in place of limbs, the leg pieces, much larger and longer than the arms. They then wheeled Keitaro into a different room. He had lost all concept of time, but it was long enough to know that it lasted a few days at the very least. It was completely white with a one way window, a large metal slab, several computers, and reclining chair with a small pad for a head rest. All in all, it was completely identical to the one before that, sans chair.

A.N. – For those who can't imagine what the chair would look like, it looks like one of the chairs in the matrix. You know the ones I'm talking about.

Several more of the men and women who performed the operation walked in and immediately began placing wiring into his skin, which split apart of its own accord (his skin). The symbiotic in his body machines formed small circles to accommodate the wires, a bit like wire jacks, no exactly like wire jacks. Several of the computers booted up and began to feed information into the machines which was relayed into Keitaro's brain by the nano tech.

On that day Keitaro was manufactured into the near perfect version of many soldiers like him. A personal army of no less than twenty, no more than fifty became available to the world. Mercenaries to be sold. Meat puppets with the know-how to protect their owner. Keitaro had just rendered forty nine obsolete. Keitaro's seed was used to create children. whereas approximately 100, 000 of which were genetically altered to inherit Keitaro's genes, specifically his regeneration… his near immortality. The rest were distributed among the wealthiest families around the world as what one might call, "insurance"; children with the inert ability to fight and protect whomever they were ordered to.

One of the devilishly handsome and debonair technicians grabbed an instrument from his pocket and a scalpel. He made a small incision in the top of Keitaro's skull and inserted the bit of machinery where it was pulled through the skull and into the brain. This was the end of the age of nuclear war. Now came something much worse, a war that combined the race to surpass one another in the field of science while constantly having to look over your shoulder. More often than not, when you did, you came face to face with the barrel of a gun, or the tip of a blade. But I seem to be getting ahead of myself, what happened of our dear idiot?

Over the course of the next month, Keitaro was continually injected with more and more nano tech which formed his parts more and more versatile objects, from shapeless blobs to tentacles, to finger-like appendages. Each progression came faster and faster till he had his hands back. Then the weapons came. Of course, Keitaro did not realize anything at the time he was in a drug induced coma, dreaming of Liddo-Kun, Hinata - Sou, and Weird, inexplicable role-playing games.

Programs were downloaded and instilled into his brain until it was second nature, operating manuals for firearms from the most advanced to the crude harquebusiers and Henry III hand cannons from 13th century Europe. Tactical Black and Guerrilla ops became standard operating procedure.

Keitaro snapped awake. He surveyed his surroundings quickly and found himself to be inside a small pod-like structure. In front of his eyes was a panel. Instinctively, he reached out to touch it. He found that his hands were covered by gloves. When he stood up he hit the top of the pod with a thud and figured from the lack of pain that he was wearing a helmet. He looked down at his body to see that he was in full battle dress.

Kevlar reinforced fibers and titanium plates with an added weight had yet to be identified. He touched the panel in front of him and it came to life. The screen of his helmet slid back into the helmet and the helmet slid into itself until it was only a small strip at the back of his head. It was similar as his other armor as the other pieces slid into folds of themselves until they were only small strips on him that receded into his skin. The panel showed a sequence of numbers. Well, it was only 2 numbers; it was a sequence of 0's and 1's.

'Binary.', automatically thought Keitaro, still dazed from his long period of sleep, more than a year to be exact.

Keitaro's eyes scanned the numbers quickly and he seemed to understand it. Keitaro's eyes glazed over and he kicked open the door to the pod. He was in the middle of the Brazilian jungle. Keitaro tapped the side of his head twice and his armor went back to it place, stopping above his forearms. Keitaro's objectives flashed in front of his eyes terminator style, a feature yours truly developed, and Keitaro's hand changed into a shotgun like weapon.

A.N. – It looks more like Mega Man's hand cannon. All of his weapons will come from his body or surroundings and modified by his nano tech.

Keitaro cocked his weapon with his unchanged left hand, and a shell popped out of his upper forearm (for laughs). Keitaro jumped up and easily bounded over the trees. He landed on a thick branch and continued Northbound until he heard several men speaking in a strange language under him.

He tapped the side of his helmet. The nano tech in his brain recognized the language as an unofficial Cuban dialect. His left hand turned into claw shaped grapple. He swung the claw lightly into the branch. But to him, lightly was slightly over one thousand PSI. He lowered himself down wards until he could see the two men conversing. They were dressed in ragged and modified B.D.U.'s some sort of Guerrilla uniform; modified meaning stripped of all protective padding, sacrificing efficiency for the jungle look.

It was some sort of rebel faction trading weapons for oil from what Keitaro could gather. Keitaro tapped the side of his helmet once again and his suit engaged his cloaking system. His right hand turned into a dual blade gauntlet. He swung down, using his inertia to pierce one man's skull, and, with one dead man in tow, pierce the other man's liver.

**End Chapter 1!**

A.N. – Well how do you like it? Any reviews would be appreciated. Flames, criticism, and any comments at all will be taken to heart and useful information will gain an honorable mention.

Top of Form


	2. Arson

Disclaimer: See chapter 1. Any similarities to unmentioned parties are purely coincidental.

"…" – Speech

'…' – Thoughts

'…' – **sub thought (internal conflict/mental debates)**

**F+UKABLOOM!**

Keitaro retracted his blades and leapt back up into the trees. He continued along a dirt path specified by the 2 dispatched guerillas. Keitaro tapped the side of his helmet and his cloaking shifted into a jungle type camouflage. Keitaro began bounding off trees to hasten his approach to he supposed meeting place for the illegal transaction. Keitaro again heard voices beneath him, but he was a long ways away from the actual objective. He began to descend only to hear that the voices were traveling farther and farther away. Keitaro tapped the side of his helmet and engaged an infrared scope and his hand shifted into a rifle-like object. Figuring that he was a long ways away from the voices Keitaro dropped down and checked the direction in which the voices had left and saw a military convoy in the distance. He slid the bolt action rifle from his arm into place and aimed near the bottom of the fuel tank. Keitaro fired his sound repressed rifle and the bullet nicked the tank, causing moderate leakage. Keitaro tapped the side of his head, disengaging his infrared vision specifically used for his infrared beamed weapons. Keitaro began to hear muffled engine sounds behind him. Keitaro leapt up and waited for the vehicle to pass under him. Moments later, a large truck carrying approximately 15 – 20 guerillas passed under him. Keitaro latched onto the side of the truck, hanging onto ropes on the side. His actions were muffled by the sound of the guerillas talking and the loud engine that nearly overpowered their own voices. Keitaro maneuvered his away onto the bottom of the convoy. He tapped the side of his helmet and miniature hooks protruded from his hands allowing him to use his other hand while it kept him in place under the truck. Keitaro's other hand shifted into a miniature cannon which let loose a torrent of clear crimson liquid which stuck to the bottom of the military vehicle.

A.N. – Remember the machinery is organic as well as living so it grows, but on an accelerated level…….Very accelerated…….I mean like super fast……Like 'The Flash' fast……The Flash is cool…..cooler than you……I have changed color! I have become CHAMELEON MAN!...

The liquid was in fact, Keitaro's blood and the nano tech in his blood began to break down organic minerals in the metal and slowly push through the material and breach the bottom of the military convoy. Keitaro maneuvered his way back onto the side of the truck and tapped the side of his helmet once gain, re-engaging his active camouflage and leapt back up into the trees. Keitaro continued ahead of the trail of noisy machines until he hear shouting in the distance behind him. Apparently, some of the guerillas had fallen through the floor of one of the convoys halfway and their bodies were torn in half. Then the other trucks had slipped on their organs and killed several of them in a large collision. Talk about a plan falling into place. Keitaro treaded into the forest without further encounters until he reached the nexus of the trading posts. It was a large encampment. Roughly about 20 to 30 thousand men total. Keitaro tapped the side of his helmet and his right hand shifted into what would look like the barrel of the high caliber high powered Savage 110 rifle.

ALL VEIWERS UNDER THE AGE OF 17 OR WITH WEAK CONSTITUTIONS SHOULD SKIP NEXT PARAGRAPH DUE TO VIOLENT NATURE. you have been warned.

Keitaro jumped downwards onto a lower branch and tapped the side of his helmet. Keitaro's armor began to recede into his skin in the usual fashion. Keitaro dropped onto a guerilla that had been standing underneath him and gripped his neck with his ankles. Keitaro shifted his weight backwards and performed a half twist suplex that succeeded in snapping the fortunate guerilla's (he got to die quickly) head partly off, with the veins and blood vessels clearly visible through the torn skin. Keitaro stripped the dead body of its gear and adorned the look of a guerilla. Keitaro tapped his temples and he looked down at the body of the fallen young man whom Keitaro deduced to be no more than 27. Keitaro's facial pores opened and released several 100,000 nano tech which shifted on his skin to alter his physical appearance. Keitaro was now Pvt. 1st class Laverne L. Spy for the U.S. military whose mission was to confirm the sightings of nuclear warheads. (Once again, I have nothing against the U.S. military.) Keitaro picked up the tags from the bodies neck and placed them in his coat pocket. Why he was wearing a coat he couldn't fathom but he continued on anyway. Keitaro's hand shifted back into its normal form as he walked into a nearby tent. Keitaro grabbed several cans of gasoline that happened to be nearby. He placed one near the entrance and punctured a small hole in it, and as it should have, it slowly leaked onto the ground under the barrack floor (you thinking what I'm thinking? Biggest human oven ever; in your face Hitler.). Keitaro walked forward, intently listening to the drunken slurs coming from the tents for any useful information while making his way towards the large tent in the middle of the encampment. Keitaro readied the AKs 74-u that it seemed that most of the grunts had. Keitaro could see shadows of a rather large man conversing with a Cuban accent about the earlier incident involving those men getting ripped in half. Keitaro readied his sights on the fat man through the tent and just when he was about to fire, he heard several guns cocking approximately 4 feet behind him. Keitaro let loose a volley of bullets from his rifle which caught the fat man in the chest and apparently his neck as depicted by a spray of blood and the squirming. Keitaro dropped to the floor in time to dodge some hurried shots from the some 6 or 7 men behind him. Keitaro whipped around and launched the rifle towards the unsuspecting men. The rifle whipped past the head of one man who let out a sigh of relief right before the sling caught the necks of the two men standing next to him. The sling twisted and wrapped around the two men, putting them into a heavy chokehold. Distracted by the two squirming men sprawled out on the ground, the men paid no heed to Keitaro as they searched for a knife and a sharp object. Keitaro tapped his right temple and his hand resumed the shotgun-like weapon it had once been. Keitaro lined the barrel of his weapon the canister of petrol he had punctured earlier. Keitaro fired a heavy volley of steel ball bearings, three of which ignited the petroleum which in turn ignited several barracks. Flaming bodies could be seen running from the building and running into another building, igniting it as the forsaken guerilla collapsed onto the dry floors of dead rotting wood (burns easily, I would know). Keitaro began jogging a brisk pace towards the exit of the camp when several flaming men began to charge at him screaming incoherently. Keitaro reared back as his blades extended from his hand. Keitaro lets loose a flurry of slashes which succeeded in leveling the dead bodies into un-even flaming sections with burnt or burning organs which occasionally popped and let loose with pus or bloodied pieces or flesh. Keitaro surveyed his surroundings. Medics, flaming men and men who had been trampled or shot in the confusion were scrambling around trying to find signs of any help at all. It smelled of death and post-mortem defecation. Keitaro tapped the side of his head and his objectives flashed against his eyes. Objective 1: Locate and Destroy Militia trading post. Objective 2: Eliminate the enemy. Objective 3: Try to do better than you are currently doing. Objective 4: Return to drop off point for extraction. Keitaro jumped onto the roofs of the flaming barracks, heading towards the drop off. Keitaro passed by the burnt wreckage of the former convoy to discover that they had no knowledge of the incident and were simply camped out by the trucks. Keitaro jumped down still in his stolen identity. He walked by unnoticed by the two men who had collected the explosives and ammunition from the trucks and set them in a pile. Keitaro grabbed 3 pairs of flares had hid them in his coat pocket. He walked towards the undamaged truck and threw a lit flare into each one and ran as fast as he could past the wreckage at the end of the line, but he long gone when the explosives had gone off. Keitaro reached the drop off point and picked the steel door off of the ground and walked towards the pod he had been dropped in. He sat down and affixed the door in its original position.

OKAY PEOPLE IF YOU WANTED TO SKIP THE VIOLENCE STOP HERE. KEITARO IS NOW IN THE POD HE FIRST WOKE UP IN.

Keitaro tapped the panel which came to life with a brilliant blue flash. Several segments of 1's and 0's flashed across the screen once again. Keitaro pupils dilated and returned from their glazed look. Keitaro looked around in the enclosed pod. Several wires protruded from the panel in front of him and slid under the skin to regulate temperature and bodily functions and tranquilized Keitaro effectively. Keitaro was greeted by severe turbulence as the pod he was in was airlifted back to whomever or whatever sources were responsible for the recent events. Meanwhile, one man with stark white hair was observing the now panicking Keitaro from the comfort of a lavished office in the middle of dome-like complex. The man brushed traces of lint of his pin-stripe suit and bit off the end of a fresh cigar that he had pulled out of a polished colonial style desk. He smirked as he lit his cigar. He waved his hand in front of an intercom's sensor which in turn brought it to life.

"I want him in 'PLEDGE'. Just give him a squad and see what he can do"

"Yes sir, and what of his spawn?"

"Devote half of them to breaking the gene, and the other half to The MERC and GEMINI programs"

"And what of the donors?"

A.N.) – Egg cell donors to be exact.

"Eradicate them. All traces are to be destroyed"

"And what of Noriyasu, Seta?"

"Kill him… Make it slow…I want the last thing he sees to be his own organs spilling out from under him. Is that understood?"

Sorry that I had to cut this chapter so short, and the action sequences seemed so rushed and lacking, but my muse kind of took a vacation right in the middle there, so I tried to finish it as best as I could. Well eventually, Keitaro will return to Hinata, but some bleak surprises are in store! Original characters will run rampant somewhere in the Mediterranean desert armed with nothing but their……unlimited arsenal of…extremely destructive weapons (The ones Bush were looking for! Hahahaha) …. Anyway… There will be pairing(s), not all of them what you'd expect. Let's just say that Kentaro did something he's going to regret, the Hinata Sou left to the two people closest to him (can you guess who they are?), someone tries to commit suicide but always fails (no one tried to stop her, he/she just kept missing his/her vital organs), and Keitaro's new squad doesn't take kindly to his arrival.


	3. The Needler Effect

Disclaimer: See chapter 1. Any similarities to unmentioned parties are purely coincidental.

"…" – Speech

'…' – Thoughts

'…' – **sub thought (internal conflict/mental debates)**

_**Subsistence**_

__

Keitaro was in a panicked frenzy. He was rapidly half spinning half tripping inside of his pod. He was desperately smacking the sides in an attempt to remove the side of the pod as he had done in the midst of his 'programmed' reaction to the beta coding. As he slumped down in half defeat half exhaustion,

A huge explosion hitting the side of the sleek black jet caused the entire bridge to rupture and basically pop. Hundreds upon thousands of pounds of pressure had slipped around the craft as it usually does when flying several hundred thousand feet in the air, but with it new opening, air pressure ripped through the craft, literally tearing through objects and people. One lucky enough to be near escape crafts were targeted by anti-aircraft rockets. The small group of survivors that were strong enough not to sucked through the broken windows and hull were trapped in the now flaming ship. Now this is the world's biggest human oven…

A/N: Hitler, I'm breaking all your records. You better watch out bitch!

Down on the ground, the target, the really fat guy looked up at the magnificent volley of explosions littering the sky. He had horribly amateur-like bandaging across his entire body. Blood poured out of several shrapnel wounds. It was clear that even without the amateur style first aid treatment that it was too late for him. He let out a shrill high pitched laugh before he let loose into a coughing fit. He collapsed to the ground, hacking up blood pooling at the back of his throat. Men ran about frantically, missiles still rocketing through the air in an attempt to strike whatever aircraft Keitaro had been in.

**HINATA SOU: PRESENT DAY 4:42 PM**

"Man, I just don't get how Keitaro took it! I mean, he should have died a loooong time ago."

"You and me both dude. I wonder what's for dinner when we get home. Mmmm maybe Shinobu'll cook my favorite sweet and sour chicken! Or maybe the lemon fish fillet! I hope that idiot Keitaro knows what he lost here; stupid Keitaro, going off to America and blowing up over the Pacific Ocean, sending those beauties into spiraling depression, leaving us a stupid decrepit mansion thingy."

"Whoa! Dude, you know you can't speak ill of the dead! 'Sides, you know he's the reason we been getting so much lately! And, he left Kentaro the decrepit mansion thingy. Man that place is falling apart; it like it's dying or something. It just gets a little worse everyday… Anyway, death is the most potent aphrodisiac. Who knew Naru liked it so hard. She seemed like the 'dom' type, not the 'sub' and goddamn man, Shinobu and Suu have that bi-lesbo thing going on! It's like they can't get off if they aren't going at it at together."

"Don't think of him as dead, he's just living impaired. And yeah, I guess I have to give you that one. Do you think that he's still alive out there? 'Cuz I sometimes get that weird feeling ya know?"

"……….Have you been stealing my weed again? 'Cuz if you did, I'll kill you. Motoko made me let her call me Keitaro and wear that freaking Keitaro mask again to get that shit. I swear to freaking God that thing feels real!"

"I get my weed from my Haruka! Besides, all those ancient samurai voodoo grass makes me hallucinate."

"Psh, yeah whatever; I ought to smack you upside the head for that."

"Whatever man, just get in the car and drive! I'm freaking starving!"

"Wait a minute…Why the hell are we getting in the car?"

"Because we need to get home in time for lunch idiot!"

"But we're already here!"

"W-T-F"

"W-T-F, LMAO, ROFL, LOL, POS, TTYL, SOB, TBS, CNN, ABC, UPN, CBS!!!!"

"What the hell man..."

"TNT!!!!"

**PLACE:??? TIME???**

Keitaro awoke with a loud yell that startled a flock of birds in the dense jungle around him. He lifted himself up off of the ground without much difficulty. He found himself surrounded by wreckage. Keitaro had amazingly stayed conscious during the attack. His pod was ejected near the time before the final few explosions, so he stuck around long enough to hear the strangled cries of several unfortunates. He checked himself over to find that he was completely unscathed. His vision was slightly impaired due top his recent bout of mid-air vertigo. His arms and legs, whom were in a slightly mangled position, looked as if they were the product of a mid-day summer barbeque gone horribly wrong. His torso had several shards of shrapnel lodged in it, and what looked like his own ribs, half bone, have living machinery were prodding against the skin of his upper chest, but not so to breach it.

'Thank God… It was only a dream…'

Keitaro looked at his hands. The mangled digits began to painlessly re-assemble themselves. He dropped to his knees, his face in his hands. Soon his eyes came in to focus. In the nigh pitch-black jungle around him, he wouldn't be able to see anything without the knowledge to use his augmentations, but bold red letters still followed his wandering eyes. They flashed over and over again, bearing the sequence that spelled "Emergency Protocol Activated". A long list of lettering in bright blue font scrolled downward so outrageously fast that only the world's top computer systems could possibly read without going back through said bits and pieces of coded programming, but it was the last few words that rocked Keitaro to the core. Host Elimination. Host Elimination, over and over and over again as it ran through certain scenarios in which it resulted in a final last ditch effort to hide all involvement of whatever organization was responsible for Keitaro's involvement whatever incident that called for his presence.

Eventually, the scrolling blue lists ended at a single paragraph highlighted in a blue outline. An automated voice recited the text on the screen:

In the event that subject number 81327, A.K.A, Keitaro Urashima, is left without means of recovery and majority of internal GPS, Weaponry, and Recovery Ntech is damaged beyond field repair. Said subject is to be put under Ntech procedure GAMMA. As directed by PLEDGE, MERC, and GEMINI programs as per standard disposure procedure to severely reduce the risk of capture, manipulation, or defection (you know, switching sides? Not like the defective DDR mat that you bought for your PS2…Or your illegal early purchased PS3 console.). Procedure GAMMA includes the cellular breakdown of all tissues of the organic sort, while constructing an EMP bomb with a range of 600 sq. ft as per standard ALPHA procedures included in GAMMA rules and standards. Such an EMP bomb will destroy all traces of Ntech involvement and usage. Such an act will result in protocol Host Elimination.

'That doesn't sound very good' thought Keitaro as he tried to stand; he already felt the little machines in his blood doing their predetermined work.

Keitaro trudged through the thick marsh around him, doing his best to push through the thick vines and branches around him.

He coughed, a shimmering mixture of blood and Ntech fluttering to the ground, melting it with a corrosive acid as soon as it made contact. This gave a clue as to what activities were occupying the Ntech

He fell to the ground, physically exhausted and mentally weary. 'Stupid engineers… It's not like I don't know my own body… Now…how the hell do get out of here… I'm pretty sure I've got a jetpack or something…' His aching person prevented him from laughing. His pupils faded into gray disks in his eyes and his unconscious stump of a body fell to the ground.

_Chirp chirp…Chirrup…Flap flap flap flap…_

Keitaro awakened, but did not move in the slightest. His instincts told him to keep still. His breathing hitched. He could hear people murmuring many a prognosis of his condition in the room.

'Fuck…' Keitaro thought, 'I know that I have a micro cam in me somewhere. If I only knew how to fuckin use this thing!'

'_DuRa Tech system activated. MM activated. T Sync established. Micro cam loading. Loading complete.'_

'W-what the hell? The fuck was that?'

'_Welcome 81327, DuRa tech system rebooted. All protocols have been erased and reset. Files are now ready for re-writing.'_

'I see.' Keitaro mulled this over 'that EMP must have screwed with the AI.'

A slit opened on Keitaro's forehead and gained way for a micro wire, no smaller than the hairs on his face.

Keitaro was in the white room; the room where he was transformed from man to machine. The giant multi-tool drill aimed at his face gave him a bittersweet feeling of nostalgia.

'Well there's a familiar sight. I almost feel like giving you a hug you big stupid thing.'

His hands and legs were pinned by giant metal braces around his arms legs and chest, on the underside of which lay the many slivers of needles that held his flesh in position. He opened his eyes. Immediately, automated turrets slid out of depressions in the ceiling of the enclosure and concentrated their aim on his head, while four men, heavily armored in suits that looked like bulkier, earlier models of his own, did the same as they slowly formed assault carbines out of their arms. Even the scientists around him had pulled out what looked like 4 shot dart guns, undoubtedly filled with something that could destroy the Ntech in his blood stream

Keitaro's slab swiveled around to face a doorway. The two guards stepped aside and let out a commanding, "GENERAL ON DECK!!!"

Even the scientists stopped and saluted the figure looming in the doorway. Middle aged, gray-haired, and tall. He was dressed in the cliché of all evil villains under the age of 40. He wore, of course, the black dress attire with a black robe/cape-ish thing with red trim that enveloped his entire body. And with the trademark villain entrance, he entered with a dark grin, gloved clapping hands, stopped in front of him, and chuckled to himself.

"So," spoke the General. (Lets call him Mr. Squeakers), "You truly are, invincible? Aren't you? Unable to be killed, immortal in every sense of the word; are you even human? "

A strong electric shock prevented from Keitaro from retorting, but he merely gritted his teeth. Mr. Squeakers laid out his palm as if asking for something. A scientist laid a dart gun in his hand.

"This," said Mr. Squeakers "Is one of our greatest inventions. Each little syringe in this here dart gun," he tapped the side of the firearm, "takes all of the nutrients in your body, and creates a gas so strong that it builds up in your body, and expels itself by way of makeshift hole in your chest. However," he expelled the clip from the gun and inserted a new one with a series of eight red-tinted syringes, obviously, fixed to rotate like revolver chambers, "This little beauty, is my own little invention." He turned and fired at a guard standing in the corner.

The guard began convulsing. He tore the armor from his skin, probably breaking bones in the process. He began screaming in pain. Veins became visible throughout his entire body. He gripped his skin, and began to rip his own flesh off. His blood curdling screams drowned out all other sounds in the room. Finally, his screams reached an apex, and an object began jutting from his chest. Two more kicks and out flew a barrage of intestine and bone.

"It solidifies your blood and fits it with an organic explosive charge. With every heartbeat, more and more explode, giving you the most gruesomely painful experience you could ask for. Then when the blood is too thick to move by means of the heart, or it has completely solidified, it all goes boom at once, you saw that his veins were enlarged yes? That was the solidified blood."

Microbes in the floor began to dissolve and dispose of the grey matter and other bodily substances and left nothing but pure, clean armor, which receded into simple bands one places on the skin.

"What was the point of all that?" spoke Keitaro through gritted teeth as he spoke through the pain.

"Oh, well, I thought you'd just like to know how you're little friend, Seta Noriyasu, met his end."

AN: I LIVE, That's right, I did not die. Not yet anyway. Guess what Keitaro's gonna do next. Give up? Well don't because its all up to you. If you want Keitaro to go berserk and kill everyone, then go ahead and tell me, if not, he'll just go along with my little plan….Which is essentially the same thing, but later along. Oh and by the way, I need a BETA


End file.
